


comfort came against my will

by leedslads



Category: One Direction
Genre: Louis studies Drama, M/M, and Things happen, and now they go to the same college, college fic, harry and louis used to be best friends, harry studies photography
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 23:13:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4980352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leedslads/pseuds/leedslads
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He vowed to never let himself become that close to someone so much like the sun again--warm and golden and bright. The heat was so enticing. Nobody told him that if you got too close, if you touched, you'd get burned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first actual long larry fic of mine that i feel kind of compelled to finish, so who knows, we'll see 
> 
> title from "black flies" by ben howard because this story ... that song ... they are one
> 
>  
> 
> disclaimer i know nothing about college/uni i am just a 16 year old girl who doesn't know how life works ((all i know is harry and louis are very much in love)) so please excuse any mistakes and feel free to correct them (please correct them) :)

Louis empties the contents of the last cardboard box onto his bed. He claps his hands together and brushes them off on his jeans. He's _finally_ done unpacking and moving into his dorm. He sits down on the floor, back resting against the side of his bed, and lets himself revel in the feeling of accomplishment for a moment.

Said moment is cut short when the fire alarm goes off. Louis takes a second to recover, splaying his hand over his chest just to make sure his heart is still beating, before getting up to go outside. Just his luck. A fire in his building on the second day of living there. He huffs, fixing his fringe and crossing his arms over his chest. He stares up at the building in front of him, searching for smoke or flames. He finds none. Someone is walking around and yelling about how the whole ordeal is just a drill and everyone will be let back inside shortly. Louis grimaces and takes the opportunity to look around and become familiar with his surroundings. He's been cooped up inside, organizing and reorganizing all of his belongings so his new home feels more...homey. He hasn't had a chance to do much sightseeing. He adds that idea to a mental list of Things To Do.

As he looks, eyes bouncing from building to building and person to person, he sees someone in just their checkered black and white boxers. He presses a closed fist to his mouth to suppress his snicker. _The boy is fit though_ , Louis can't help but think, giving him a once over. _He must've been mid-change or something._ Louis can't see his face, because the boy is turned away, but he has long legs and a little bit of a tummy. He's got a tattoo on his thigh and some smattered over his shoulders and biceps. Louis guesses there are about ten in total. He's never really been into tattoos, but this curly haired boy can totally pull them off and--Louis can't help but think of a certain person gushing about how many tattoos he planned to have when he grew up.

He shakes his head, hoping the thought will disappear. That was years ago. This is now. This is Louis's new life, miles away from his old one, from anything having to do with his childhood. Louis tears his eyes off of the fit boy's lower back. He stares at the ground instead. So there are nice looking boys in his building. He can deal with that. He's here to get an education anyway, not to ogle people he has no chance with. He can’t help it, though. He keeps his head down but lifts his gaze to the fit boy's boxers. _He just has such nice thighs_ , Louis can't stop himself from thinking about what they'd feel wrapped around his--

"Alright everybody! It's safe to go back inside! Sorry for the interruption!" a voice calls. Louis jerks his head toward the sound. A bunch of _finally_ s and _about time_ s are muttered from the people around him. He makes his toward the entrance of his dorm building. It's really crowded. Everybody is trying to funnel in through the same door. He keeps bumping into people.

"Sorry," he mutters to one boy he elbows particularly hard.

"All good." Louis is about to offer him an apology smile, but when he turns to do so, he's thankful that the boy isn't looking at him. If he was, he would see how Louis had a near heart attack. Louis ducks his head immediately. No way. He has the worst luck. He has the shittiest luck in all of human history. Probably in all of every history. To top it all off, he notices that the boy he hit is fit boy, the checkered boxers brushing Louis's hand as they walk. He pulls his hand away immediately, curling it against his chest. Fit boy notices the sudden movement. "Alright mate?" Oh fuck.

"Yeah, fine. Sorry," Louis mumbles, and he keeps his eyes glued to his own feet. He needs to move, to get out of this crowded space. He's almost inside. Just a few more steps. There's a hand on his shoulder.

"Wait, hey, uh. What's your name?" Louis's heart drops. He could use a fake name. He could ask all of his professors to call him Jake or something. He could brush off his similarity to a man named Louis Tomlinson as purely coincidental, if fit boy ever brought it up. He loves acting. He could pull it off. And if all else fails, he could wear a paper bag over his head. He could drop out. "You sure you're alright?"

"Yeah." The hand squeezes and Louis feels like he's going to die right there. He looks up and they're inside. He and fit boy are standing in the middle of the hall and everyone else is swarming around them and, oh _fuck_.

"No way. No fucking way. Louis?" Louis runs. He pushes through everyone, mumbling "excuse me" like a mantra until he reaches his room on the third floor. He pats his pockets, looking for his keys. _Shit, where did they go?_ He finally feels the smooth metal and he fumbles a little while shoving a key in the lock, but eventually he gets the door open. He breathes a sigh of relief and closes it behind him. He presses his forehead against it, hoping the cool surface will calm him down.

Then the door is shaking. Someone's knocking. Louis knows it's him. He asks anyway, because that's the normal thing to do, right? He's trying to act normal. Calm. Indifferent. Because he's definitely not nervous. Or confused. "Who is it?"

"Louis, it's me! Harry! This is insane. What a small world." _Oh fuck._

"Sorry? No one here by that name. You must have the wrong room, mate," he replies, laughing nervously. Maybe he isn't as good at acting as he thought. Then again, he doesn't know why he's even trying. Harry _knows_ it's him. There's no way Louis can get himself out of this one. He clenches his fists at his sides.

"Louis. Quit messing about. I'd recognize those smileys on your shoes anywhere." Louis looks down at his shoes and, well, yeah. He's drawn smiley faces somewhere on all of the shoes he's ever owned (except for his nice ones, his mom would’ve killed him). It's the Tommo Trademark. He mumbles some choice words before cracking the door. Harry is inside in an instant. He drops his gaze to Louis, wide eyed and winded, and closes the door with a click. "Hi." Louis ducks his head, because it's weird to look at Harry after all this time, and he notices the boy's boxers for the third time today. It hits him that he was checking Harry out earlier. Fantasizing about his thighs. He feels guilty. Heat bubbles underneath his skin, trapped there. He thinks he might combust. Hopes he does.

He was already overwhelmed, what with living (and being) on his own for the first time. Now, his childhood best friend is standing in his doorway. The one he hasn't seen in four years. It's all...a little too much. "You live here?" he asks, because what the fuck else can he even say to Harry? They haven't talked since the day he moved away.

 

_Three hours. Harry was leaving in three hours. His family was ready to go, all of their belongings packed into a white and orange painted moving truck with a destination six hours away. Louis could see it all from his bedroom window across the street, which faced Harry's house. If he was being honest, Louis wished Harry didn't have to go. He pretended that it didn't matter, that nothing would change between them because they'd call each other every day. For Harry's sake. Truthfully, he was going to miss building forts out of couch cushions and playing video games all night, until daylight shone through the window. Sure, they could talk over the phone once Harry left, but that's just not the same._

_Harry was his best friend for two years, ever since the day he moved to town. Louis introduced himself immediately, and that was that. Apparently Harry moved a lot, for reasons Louis never really cared to ask about._

_Louis had been dreading the day for weeks, and time was slipping away._ Harry _was slipping away._

 _An hour later, Louis find himself at the hill down the street. He was sitting at the very top. Harry was next to him. That was their favorite spot. They knocked their knees together and told stories and reminisced and it should've felt happy, Louis thought, but it didn't. It felt like impending doom. It felt like knowing the world was ending and trying to make the best of your remaining time. That was pretty much what was happening, Louis realized. Sitting there in the grass with his best friend at_ their _place was him trying to make the best of his time. The world itself might as well have ended right then, Louis thought, because he knew that when they made their way home, trudging down the sidewalk with heavy hearts,_ his _world would be over. Harry would clamber into his mom's car and drive away. And that would be that. The end of the world. Kind of boring, in Louis's opinion, but painful nonetheless._

_He was fantasizing about a giant flaming ball of debris hitting the earth when Harry nudged him with a bony elbow._

_"Lou, are you going to miss me?" Louis laughed, because how could Harry even ask that?_

_"Of course I'll miss you. You're my best friend." Louis could see Harry smile out of his peripherals._

_"Good. I'm going to miss you too."_

_"I know." Louis looked up at Harry. Who let a 14 year old boy get a growth spurt before Louis? He was 15, going to be 16 in three months, but Harry was taller than him. Louis took in the sight of his best friend, sitting cross-legged with his hands planted on the ground behind him. He couldn't believe he wouldn't see Harry everyday anymore. It felt so normal, like second nature, to have him around. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind. "It's quite unfair that you're younger than me but still taller."_

_"The next time I see you, you'll tower over me," Harry said, sounding sure as ever. Louis laughed and pressed his forehead to Harry's shoulder. "I know it." They sat there for a while, not saying anything. Louis gently wrapped his fingers around Harry's wrist._

_"Harry?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Don't leave." Louis's words sounded needy, and desperate, and exactly how he felt inside and for a moment he regretted saying anything because he knew nothing could be done about what was to happen. He squeezed his eyes shut when he felt Harry stiffen._

_"You know I have to," Harry whined. Louis lifted his head to look at Harry. When Harry wouldn't meet his gaze, he sighed._

_"Please look at me. I know you do. I'm sorry. Let's talk like normal, yeah? Let's pretend nothing is wrong. Let's pretend it's just another day."_

_"I can't."_

_"Then let's not pretend. Just, please," Louis begged, tightening his grip on Harry's wrist, "look at me." Harry shook his head and chewed on his bottom lip, a thing he did when he didn't want to talk. Louis knew what it meant, but he didn't care. He had a right to be selfish and pushy at the moment, because Harry was leaving in less than two hours._

_"I want my last memory of you to be happy, but you're sad. You're never sad. It feels wrong."_

_"Well I don't want my last memory of you to be this, you refusing to look me in the eye because you're scared." Harry snapped his head up to glare at Louis._

_"Fine. Here. Happy?" Louis searched Harry's eyes, switching his gaze back and forth between them._

_"Not really." He let go of Harry's wrist and laid down, folding his hands underneath his head as a cushion and closing his eyes. The grass tickled his bare arms._

_"And I am not scared," Harry huffed. Louis smirked when he realized that Harry was genuinely upset because of what he said._

_"Yes you are." Louis always found it entertaining to poke fun at the younger boy. Just because he was moving didn't mean he was going to let up. Maybe Louis could get one last smile out of him._

_"Am not. If I was scared, would I do this?" Louis opened his eyes to watch whatever goofy thing Harry was about to do, because that's just how Harry was. He was always trying to make Louis laugh. Louis expected him to roll down the hill in just his boxers, or scream at the top of his lungs, or do some other thing that only Harry would find funny. Louis wasn't expecting Harry to crawl on top of him and straddle his thighs, though. He wasn't expecting Harry to cup his face so softly, with barely-there hands. He_ really _wasn’t expecting Harry to kiss him. Louis's brain was screaming at him to push Harry away, because it was wrong wrong_ wrong. _They were friends. Nothing like this had ever happened between them before. Plus, they were both_ boys _. Was that even normal? His heart was pounding, though. It was ringing in his ears with its unmistakable plea to just_ let it happen. _So he did. He gave in and closed his eyes and tangled one hand into Harry's curls and twisted the other in his shirt._

_The kiss was messy. It left Louis's mouth slick with spit. It was juvenile and innocent and testing the waters. It was a first, a last, and a goodbye all in one. When they needed to breathe, Harry's lips found Louis's neck. They sucked weakly at the skin there. "Oh, God, I'm sorry, it's just--you're right. I'm so scared." Before Louis could process what he said, Harry was halfway down the hill. Louis presumed he was running home. He wanted to go after him, he really did. He just couldn't move._

_He wiped the spit off his chin with the back of his hand and tried to breathe evenly so his heart would stop beating so fast. He willed himself to get up and follow Harry and ask him what the hell just happened, but he couldn't._

_When he could finally trust his legs to carry him, he stumbled down the hill. His lips felt numb the entire walk home. He told himself it was because it was chilly outside._

_It hurt when he saw that the truck was gone from Harry's driveway. It hurt when he called Harry just to be sent straight to voicemail after two rings. It hurt when his texts went unanswered for weeks._

_His world had ended, and Louis was confused. How could it hurt so bad when he knew it was coming? He anticipated it. He counted down the days. He prepared himself for it._

_When Harry didn't even try to contact Louis on his 16th birthday, Louis gave up. He vowed to never let himself become that close to someone so much like the sun again--warm and golden and bright. The heat was so enticing. Nobody told him that if you got too close, if you touched, you'd get burned._

 

So, yeah, it's weird that Harry is standing in front of Louis. It's weird that they used to be so close, and now Louis struggles with asking a simple question. They used to sleep in the same damn bed.

"Yep. I'm just upstairs actually, floor above this. Room above this. That's so fucking weird, yeah?" Harry laughs, pushing his curls off his forehead and rocking on the balls of his feet.

"Really weird, yeah." Louis lets himself look at Harry. His hair is down to his shoulders. It's gotten really long. It's still just as curly, Louis notes. Harry's lips are parted slightly in awe, like he can't believe Louis is standing _right there_. Louis can't believe it either.

"Holy shit." The corners of Louis's mouth twitch.

"Yeah."

 

*          

 

Louis gently kicks open the door to his room, arms full of snacks and supplies he picked up at the store. Classes don’t start for a few more days and he intends to use his free time to his advantage.

“So, you’re Louis?” A voice asks just as Louis closes the door with his hip. He almost drops everything on the floor. He looks up and sees a boy with bright blonde hair standing to his left.

“Yep, Louis Tomlinson. I take it you’re Niall?” He stumbles toward his bed and drops everything onto it, turning around to face his roommate.

“The one and only!”

“Irish, eh?” The blonde boy nods and plops down on his own adjacent bed. “Scared the living shit out of me, mate,” Louis huffs as he unloads his bags and organizes his food and school stuff on various makeshift shelves around the room. Niall chuckles and claps his hands.

“Sorry! My bad.”

“You just get here?”

“Yep. Parents left about 15 minutes ago. How long have you been here?”

“A couple of days.” Louis stuffs the empty plastic shopping bags into the same drawer as his other odds and ends, including a container of paper clips, a spare lightbulb, and a picture frame with no picture in it. He turns around to face Niall, planting his hands on his hips and surveying the room. “No way, you brought a mini fridge? I think we’re going to get on well.”

Niall’s face breaks into a smile and he says, “Course we will.”

After chatting for a few hours and getting to know each other, Louis claims he’s knackered and crawls into bed. Niall does a little reorganizing of his things and Louis watches him from under his duvet. He’s lulled to sleep by the soft music that plays from Niall’s iHome.

 

*        

 

Louis is not a morning person, so really, it’s not his fault that he isn’t exactly nice to Harry when he knocks (very obnoxiously) on his door and wakes him up at 8 am.

“What?” he grumbles, opening the door and pawing at his sleepy eyes.

"Good morning.”

"And what makes it so good?" Louis shifts his weight to one leg and crosses his arms over his chest, giving Harry a pointed look. Harry tilts his head and his smile falters slightly.

“Uh, not sure, but do you want to go get coffee? It’s on me.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets and nibbles on his bottom lip. The offer is tempting. Louis could always go for some iced coffee and a pastry or two.

“I suppose, yeah. Just let me get changed quick.” Harry nods. “Oh, come in, sorry. My roomie is still sleeping though so if you could just, you know. Not be terribly loud.” Harry nods again and steps inside the room. Louis turns away and saunters to his dresser. He picks out a pair of black skinnies and a plain tee.

“These dorms are so small,” Harry whispers, “I hate how I can’t do anything to make my room feel more like my own space, especially when I have to share the 20 square feet with another guy.” Louis giggles, pulling his shirt over his head.

“Have your parents bring some stuff from home,” he whispers back, “or pick up some posters and tack them up.” He looks over his shoulder at Harry as he steps into his jeans. “Pictures are cool, too. Sorry, I’m not very good at this, either,” he sweeps his arm out in front of him, gesturing to the almost bare walls, “as you can tell.”

“Thanks anyway.”

 

When they get to the café, Harry picks a table for two tucked in the corner and pulls Louis’s chair out for him.

“Such a gentleman,” he teases, taking his seat. Harry ducks his head and grins.

“What would you like? Anything you want.”

“You’re spoiling me, Styles.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

Louis asks him for anything iced, surprise him, please and thank you, and anything in the display case that looks good. Preferably a muffin of some sort. As he watches Harry place their order, Louis can’t stop thinking about how absolutely fucking crazy it is that they go to the same school. He also feels a twinge of anxiety, because he doesn’t exactly know how to strike up a conversation as if he doesn’t still sometimes wonder why Harry never called him back.

Louis looks up from his phone screen as Harry plops a tray down on the table. He takes his seat and hands Louis his drink and pushes a muffin toward him.

“Poppyseed?”

“Yep.”

“Thank you. Love these,” Louis says around a mouthful of the crumbling bread.

“So do I.” Harry sips his drink and they slip into an awkward silence for a few beats, before Louis clears his throat.

“So. What are you in school for?"

Harry answers, “Photography,” taking a bite of his muffin. “You?”

“Uh, drama, actually.” Harry grins, dimple popping out, and shakes his head softly.

“I knew it was something like that. Either that or psychology.”

“I thought I wanted to do something with psychology for a while, but theater is definitely my calling. I figured you’d study some law.”

“For a while I wanted to, but it ultimately seems too boring.”

Louis’s theater skills come in handy at times like these. He’s good at acting like he’s _not_ scared out of his wits.

“So how’s life? What have you been up to the past few years?” he asks, watching as Harry fiddles with the hem of his shirt.

“Uh, fine, it’s been good. I got a job at a bakery back home for a few years but I had to quit, obviously. That was fun. Pretty boring otherwise.” He pops a chunk of his muffin into his mouth, chewing before asking, “How have you been?”

“Good, good.”

 

After a while, Louis feels like they’ve run out of things to talk about and he makes a suggestion that he kicks himself for before he’s even finished speaking. “Would you want to come back to my dorm and hang out for a while?” Nice one, Louis. “I’m sure Niall would like to meet you.” What is he even saying?

Harry doesn’t seem to think it’s weird, though. He accepts with a “Sure! That sounds like fun” and a huge smile that Louis can’t help but mirror.

“Great. Shall we, then?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall is a great friend, and Zayn is introduced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's ~3k that i've had in my word document for a while, i've mulled over it a bit and tried to correct some mistakes. unbeta'd, tho. 
> 
> enjoy, and feel free to correct any mistakes you see :)

When Louis brought Harry back to his dorm, he was hoping Niall would make the whole situation a little less tense just with his presence. Maybe pitch in with some conversation topics, at best. He didn’t think Niall would talk for twenty minutes straight about how great of friends they’re all going to be—“I can see it now. Partners in crime. Uh—triplets in crime? What would we call that? Oh! And study buddies. Everything in between!”—before showing off his extensive collection of DVDs—“I buy most of them from secondhand stores and pawn shops. Cheap there. I never run out of things to watch. No, Louis, that’s not considered hoarding.”—and ordering a pizza for the three of them.

 

 “Have you lads ever played Cards Against Humanity before?” Niall asks, patting Harry’s hair as he speaks.

 

“I have,” Harry replies excitedly from his spot in Niall’s lap. His head is resting on Niall’s thighs, legs sprawled over Louis’s. They’re all crammed on Niall’s twin bed, but Louis doesn’t really mind. It’s cozy. Familiar, almost, though Louis doesn’t know why, and he’s pretty sure he’s never felt this comfortable around two people he doesn’t really know.

 

He knows Harry, he supposes. The old Harry. The Harry that followed Louis around, looking up to him (well, more like down at him. Not by much, though, thankfully. Curse Harry’s early growth spurt anyway.) with those huge eyes, like Louis held the world in his hands. He believed everything Louis said. He clung to his words without a second thought, never doubted anything, not with Louis Tomlinson on his side, and Louis knew that. Harry had told him so, once, during one of their deep late-night-sleepover-talks. (“You make me feel like I can do anything, Louis. I’m never afraid when I’ve got you with me.” “Shut it. That’s crap and you know it.” “No, Lou. You make me feel invincible.”)

 

But this Harry…he’s new. He’s uncharted territory, quite frankly. It’s not like Louis thought he’d be the same lanky 14-year-old from back then. He just never thought he’d see Harry again, really, so it’s weird to see that he’s grown into his limbs and lost his bit of baby fat. He’s just so _different_ than the last time Louis saw him, scared and frightened and _young_.

 

Which takes Louis to the next stop on his train of thought. The worst part of this situation is that neither of them have addressed the elephant in the room: the day they last saw each other. It’s like it’s hovering over them, thickening the air and making it hard for Louis to think about anything other than that day whenever Harry is around him. They both know their past—they shared it, for Christ’s sake—but they’re in a weird spot. Louis sure as hell doesn’t want to be the one to bring it up, so he decides he’ll wait until Harry does. Maybe it’s not that big of a deal. Maybe they can pretend forever that they’re old friends who lost touch on good terms.

 

 Louis wonders if Harry still felt invincible after he moved away.

 

Niall snaps his fingers in front of Louis’s face. “Louis, mate.”

 

“Sorry?”

 

“I _said_ , would you want to play Cards Against Humanity?”

 

“What’s that?” Louis asks, squinting at him.

 

“A game,” he answers simply.

 

“A really fun game,” Harry adds with a firm nod.

 

“How do you play?”

 

 




 

45 minutes later, Louis is losing by six cards. He’s never played before, in his defense.

 

“During sex, I like to think about…blank.” Harry carefully places the card down on the carpet in the middle of their makeshift circle. It’s more of a triangle, really, but whatever.

 

Louis looks at his cards, pondering a good answer. He’s narrowed it down to “Vigorous jazz hands,” “The Hamburglar,” and “Spontaneous human combustion.” He shakes his head at the last one. It’s a little dark, honestly. He doesn’t want to scare Niall away after two days. Then again, it’s just a game, after all, and Niall _did_ put down “Jerking off into a pool of children’s tears” when Louis drew “The class fieldtrip was completely ruined by…” That one was gross.

 

He chooses “Vigorous jazz hands.”

 

Niall wins the point with “Pulling out.”

 

Harry is stifling giggles while Louis huffs about his shit selection of cards. “This is unfair. It’s rigged. I have no funny ones. What the fuck shall I do with ‘A micropenis’? Honestly.”

 

Niall wins the game with 14 cards. Louis loses with five.

 

 




 

 

“Harry that movie is _shit_ , put it back,” Niall groans, smacking his forehead as he watches Harry file through his collection of DVDs.

 

“If it’s shit, why is it in your prized movie collection?” Harry retorts, digging through the box of neatly packed videos.

 

“No one said they were all _good_ movies. That one is especially bad, though. Don’t recall buying it.” Niall is shoveling popcorn into his mouth by the handful. Louis kneels down next to Harry, peeking into the container while consciously avoiding making any bodily contact with the boy next to him. He feels jittery.

 

“This one!” Harry yells, holding a case triumphantly above his head. “Sappy rom-coms are my favorite.”

 

Niall peers at his choice and nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, that’s a good one. Give it ‘ere.” Harry hands it to him, pushing the box back under Niall’s bed. He glances at Louis, biting back a smile. Louis feels his face heat up and he isn’t sure why. It irritates him. Niall stuffs the movie inside their Blu-Ray player (courtesy of Niall’s parents, bless them) and flops down on his bed, remote in hand.

 

Halfway through _Love Actually_ —which Louis learned is Harry’s favorite movie of all time, apparently—Louis realizes Niall is asleep. He must’ve dozed off a while ago, because Louis hasn’t heard him add in any commentary on the movie for quite some time. His stomach twists a little. He and Harry are alone again, kind of. Shit. He peeks at Harry, who is sitting next to him on his bed. He’s staring at the TV screen, hands folded in his lap. _Just get through the movie, and he’ll leave, and you can sleep it off,_ Louis thinks, chewing on his bottom lip. _There isn’t that much left anyway_.

 

By the end of the movie, Louis is sniffling. A tear or two (or a million) has been shed. He can’t help it. Movies just get to him, he supposes. He tries to subtly blot his eyes with the corner of his blanket, but he sees Harry smiling out of his peripherals. And then he feels Harry’s outstretched pinky finger, gentle, barely there, drawing circles into the outside of his thigh. He holds really still for a beat, willing his heartrate to go down. It’s an all-too familiar feeling for him, forgotten over years spent apart, rekindled with one simple touch. Neither of them move for what feels like years (it’s about ten seconds). Louis clears his throat and the moment is shattered. Harry pulls his hand away immediately, flushing and tugging at his shirt sleeve.

 

They start talking at the same time, Louis chuckling wetly and shaking his head. “You first,” he says.

 

“Oh, I was just going to say, it’s getting kinda late. I should probably be getting back to my room.”

 

Louis nods at him, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands. “Yeah, I was thinking I should get some sleep.” Harry nods, crawling off Louis’s bed and stretching while walking toward the door.

 

“This was nice. Thanks for having me over, Louis,” he says sheepishly. Louis nods.

 

“Anytime, curly boy. Stop by anytime.” Harry blushes at the nickname, scratching at the nape of his neck and holding back a grin.

 

“Bye. See you soon,” he whisper-shouts, standing in the doorway. “Tell Niall thanks from me.”

 

Louis nods. “Will do. See ya.” The door thunks shut behind Harry, and Louis couldn’t be more relieved. He pulls his duvet up and over himself.  “Thank fuck,” he mutters, squeezing his eyes shut and waiting for sleep to consume him.

 

It takes a while.

 

 




 

 

_“Louis, it’s okay, it’s just a movie,” Harry whispered, drawing shapes on Louis’s thigh with a light touch in an attempt to comfort him._

_“I know that. It’s still sad,” Louis had sniffled, pulling at his shirt and wiping his wet eyes with the fabric. Harry drew a heart before he answered._

_“It is, yeah.”_

_“How aren’t you crying? Not even one tear. You are a robot, Harry.”_

_  
“Am not,” Harry protested, furrowing his eyebrows and glaring at Louis. “You just cry easy.”_

_“You just have no emotion.” Harry pouted at him, pulling his hand away and cocooning himself in his blanket on the other side of the small couch defensively. “I’m just teasing, Hazza. Come here.”_

_“I know. Okay.” He crawled over to Louis, settling into his side and nuzzling his face into his shoulder. Louis wrapped an arm around him. He smiled to himself, content with Harry pressed against him. Harry was always so warm.  Louis pulled him in closer, smiling into his hair._

_He giggled and shook his head fondly.  “Curly boy.”_




 

 

Louis is a very straightforward person. He’s never been one to beat around the bush. So, he decides he’s going to tell Niall when he gets back to the dorm. He went to go pick up some food, at Louis’s request (“Niall, I will get down on my knees and beg you if I truly must, but can you please go grab takeout? I’m sick of eating the same shit.” Niall just shrugged, grabbed his wallet, and asked Louis what he wanted. Didn’t complain or ask Louis why he couldn’t do it himself or anything. Louis loves Niall.) and said he’d be back in an hour or so. It’s been a _couple_ hours or so, and Louis is also a very impatient person.

 

When Niall finally gets back, he plops down on the floor between their beds and spreads out an assortment of Chinese takeaway, complete with paper plates and a stack of napkins and an apology for taking so long. Apparently, he had to stop by the library to pick up a book for one of his classes. They eat across from each other on the floor, bantering between mouthfuls of food. Louis is halfway done with his meal when he gets the courage to speak up. “I’m not sure how to say this, mate,” he starts, “and I really hope it doesn’t scare you off or anything.” Niall cocks an eyebrow, fork full of noodles poised at his lips. Louis takes a deep breath. “I’m gay.”

 

Niall just sticks the fork in his mouth. “And?”

 

Louis stares at him. “Uh, that’s all. Yeah. I’m gay. Just thought you’d want to know.” He feels light now, like a huge weight has been lifted off of him. He isn’t used to telling people about his sexuality—back home, everyone already knew. He came out sometime during year 12, and that was that. He hasn’t had to tell anybody for ages. Now, with Niall looking at him thoughtfully, his earlier fear seems irrational. How could Niall ever be intolerant of anything?

 

“Louis, I could not care less about that. You love who you love. That’s great. I’m glad you told me, though,” is Niall’s quiet response, and they go back to eating in a comfortable silence.

 

The past few weeks of living in the dorms—and attending university in general—hasn’t been as bad as Louis expected. He and Niall could always find something to do after returning from classes, and Harry is around more often than not. Niall met a boy named Zayn in an art lecture last week and dragged him out to the pub one night with them. Louis doesn’t mind at all. Zayn is hot, and who is Louis to complain when an attractive guy tags along on their outings every once in a while?

 

The only thing that’s proven to be rather difficult is Harry. They still haven’t talked about it, and they’ve been hanging out for almost a month now. Louis has been tiptoeing around it, careful not to mention anything having to do with home. The avoidance is weird though. Louis picks up on the little things Harry does that mirror how he was so many years ago, and the ways that he’s changed, and it’s hard not to make fun of him for _still_ being an absolutely terrible dancer. Because that would involve an explanation, a memory dug up from the recesses of Louis’s mind. He’s not ready to revisit those times. He knows it will be too much to handle if every time he looks at this Harry, he only sees that Harry.

 

Louis hates how this Harry is just as charming as that Harry, minus the chubby cheeks and messy hair, and fuck Harry for that because no one is immune to him, not even Louis, not even after all these years. He tries to tell himself he is, that the way he feels around Harry now means nothing, absolutely fucking nothing.

 

Because he’s scared it means _something_.

**Author's Note:**

> i never proof read this and i don't have a beta so i apologize for any mistakes! hope you enjoyed anyway :)


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